


reach the whole way around

by dottie_wan_kenobi



Series: Batfam Fics [16]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, In some chapters, No Romance, Platonic Affection, Platonic Relationships, Timeline What Timeline, kind of a 5+1 fic except not, more like 7 times + nothing, not this first one tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22205404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottie_wan_kenobi/pseuds/dottie_wan_kenobi
Summary: Seven times Bruce holds Dick---1) 8 year old Dick falls asleep during a movie
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Batfam Fics [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1231787
Comments: 10
Kudos: 155





	reach the whole way around

**Author's Note:**

> I promised some ppl on Tumblr this fic but it's slow going so I thought I'd post some ???? idk updating schedule, I have a lot of writing commitments going on rn kjsdhfjkah I'll try my best  
> not beta'd :^/ if u notice any mistakes just lmk in the comments pls!!
> 
> title quote from _Vanishing Acts_ by Jodie Picoult. "I suddenly remember being very little and being embraced by my father. I would try to put my arms around my father's waist, hug him back. I could never reach the whole way around the equator of his body; he was that much larger than life. Then one day, I could do it. I held him, instead of him holding me, and all I wanted at that moment was to have it back the other way."

“More tea, sir?” Alfred asks, coming to stand just inside the doorway of the living room. It’s seen more use in the past few months than in many years before combined, but Bruce and Alfred are filling back into the space easily. Well, as easily as Alfred ever does anything so… domestic.

Not that Bruce is ever going to mention that. Looking at his cup as if more of his drink might suddenly manifest inside it, he decides he doesn’t need anymore tonight. “No, thank you. I think it’s time we got to bed, actually.”

Alfred comes closer, taking the cups—Dick’s is abandoned on the side table, mostly full; Bruce took a few sips when he ran out of his own—and setting them on a tray that seems to come from nowhere. “Very well. Shall I draw a bath for Master Richard?”

They both look down to the boy currently sprawled on Bruce’s chest.

A few hours ago, he’d come to Bruce’s office, begging to watch a movie with him. It’s summer, so the late hour hadn’t concerned Bruce, who thought, _why not?_ and allowed the child to drag him downstairs. Of course, almost the second the opening frames of Aladdin came onto the television screen, Dick flopped himself onto Bruce.

He’s aware that kids need physical affection. It’s getting easier to handle Dick’s constant need to hug, hold hands, ruffle his hair, and everything in between. But in that moment, he tensed—couldn’t help it. And Dick noticed, because he tensed up too. Started to get up.

“Sorry, chum,” Bruce had murmured, voice softer than he’d ever thought it could be. He’d purposefully relaxed, an easy task as he got used to Dick’s weight, and ran his hand down the boy’s back. “I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. You can lay down, it’s alright.”

Dick had, practically sinking down into his chest. “That mean I got the drop on the Batman?” He teased, not looking away from the movie. Only one of his eyes was was open, the one not burrowing into Bruce’s sweater.

Bruce snorted, trying to psych himself up to spend the whole movie with Dick’s commentary accompanying it.

Within five minutes, the little boy was asleep.

Dick really isn’t as subtle as he thinks—Bruce knows he’s been having trouble sleeping, nightmares waking him multiple times most nights. But over the past few hours, he’s seemed fine. Mumbling nonsensically here and there, yes, but he hasn’t started screaming yet.

(To be frank, Bruce has been spending a lot of time lately looking into how to help eight year olds with PTSD. Nothing seems to work, not even the suggestions Alfred has made. Well, nothing until now. Is cuddling all it takes? Bruce can push his discomfort aside and cuddle this boy forever, if that’s what he needs.)

“No,” Bruce says in reply to Alfred. “I doubt he wants to wake up now.”

Voice dry as dirt, he says, “It _is_ almost three in the morning, Master Bruce.”

“He doesn’t have school,” Bruce defends, easing up from where he’s slumped into the cushions. Dick grumbles and tightens his hold, turning his face all the way into Bruce’s chest now. In a whisper, Bruce asks, “Chum? You awake?”

“No,” Dick whines, muffled. “Stop movin’.”

“I have to get you up to your room.” Bruce rests on the edge of the seat, rubbing Dick’s back. Having the little boy in his arms like this makes him feel… human. Paternal. Grounded and almost a little stable. What is this kid doing to him? Seriously. “It’s bedtime.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Don’t want to go to bed? Sweetheart, you’re already asleep.”

Dick makes a tired, annoyed noise. It’s adorable, really.

Unsure, Bruce looks to Alfred. Alfred is better at this, at taking care of children, than Bruce could ever be. The older man meets his eyes for a moment before gentling his voice and asking, “Perhaps Master Richard would like to sleep in your bed tonight?”

It’s not something that’s happened often, all the parenting books Bruce has read saying that it could lead to Dick being totally unable to sleep by himself. But on the other hand, Bruce knows he spent more than a few nights as a child terrified to be alone, sneaking into Alfred’s room and sleeping in the chair in his room.

“How does that sound?” He asks the boy, ducking his head a little.

Dick nods, grumbling something that sounds vaguely positive.

Smiling, Bruce adjusts his hold, and stands. Dick doesn’t react, and Bruce finds it unbearably adorable.

Alfred leads the way to the bedroom, leaving the tray on the side table. Neither of them talk as they head upstairs, the only sounds their footsteps and the swish of clothing as Bruce gives in to the urge to rock Dick. Who is not his son nor a baby. Whatever.

When Alfred peeks over his shoulder at them, he gives Bruce a knowing look, something like contentment sparking in his eyes. Bruce thinks about saying something—how this is just a one-night thing, he’ll be back to patrol tomorrow, are they going to have to have a talk about this?—but they arrive at the doorway before he can. Alfred guides them in, and then they head right for the bed, where Alfred turns down the sheets. Bruce lays Dick down gently on the left side, and Alfred tucks him in.

They retreat to the closet, Bruce pulling his pajamas out of the drawers. 

“No patrol, tonight, sir?” Alfred asks in an undertone.

“It’s too late.” He shakes his head. “And anyway, I don’t think he’d be happy if I left right now.”

“No, I imagine not.” Alfred turns as Bruce starts to get changed, facing the hanging suits. Bruce gets the sense that he does want to have a talk about this, most likely about how nice it is to see him happy for once, but he doesn’t say anything to start that conversation. Instead, he says, “In that case, I will be heading to bed. Well, dealing with those cups, and then to bed.”

There’s no reason to say he can ignore them for now, get some sleep—Alfred never listens. 

Dressed, Bruce steps out and towards the bed. Before he can get too far, though, he reaches out and clasps Alfred’s shoulder. “Goodnight.”

Alfred smiles and pats his hand twice. “Goodnight, Master Bruce. Sleep well.”

They part, the door closing silently behind the older man. Bruce slips under the covers, and immediately, Dick is there, rolling into his space and mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like “warm”.

Awkwardly, unsure how to sleep in a bed with someone else, much less someone so small, he wraps his arms around the child. Dick snuggles closer, and they both settle down, Bruce’s eyes slipping closed. 

Holding Dickie is a lot more relaxing than he would’ve thought. It’s ridiculously easy to fall asleep that night.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr](https://dottie-wan-kenobi.tumblr.com) & if you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a comment!! thank you! <3


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